The Library Queen
by wanderingmaiden
Summary: "I haff never met such an intriguing girl in my life." -Victor Krum. "He's okay, for an international quidditch player." -Hermione Granger. The hidden tale of how Krum and Hermione became dates for the Yule Ball.


I didn't notice her at first, but, after all, very few recognize their other half at first glance. She swept into the library, the light clacking of her shoes disturbing the peace, and I glanced up, noted the unintended intrusion into my silent environment, and ignored it. Even now I am unsure how I could have considered her so unworthy of my attention, how I could bear to give her but a moment of thought before returning to my Dark Arts essay. Perhaps the constant presence of giggling girls had numbed me to all beauty, or my mind's preoccupation with the Triwizard Tournament was clouding my vision. But the truth of the matter was that I just brushed her off. And so went our first meeting.

A week later I entered the library again, her reign, although I knew it not at the time. I was just interested in finding a book about the taming of dragons. After Karkaroff had "let slip" the contents of the first task, I had noticed the lack of relevant books on the ship. We could not bring all of Durmstrang's library with us, of course—the books themselves would fill all of the sleeping quarters of the seventh years who had come seeking glory at Hogwarts—and all those books which had been taken were strictly course related. As such, I was handed a restricted-section pass and was shunted toward the castle with Karkaroff's greedy smirk following my path uphill.

Entering the expansive room, I moved toward my previous seat—the one in a dusty corner, secluded from the rest of the tables, and, most importantly, the doting fans who followed me constantly when I left the safety of the ship—only to find it occupied by the girl who had distracted me days before. Her head bent intently over a large tome, quill scribbling over a parchment, causing drops of ink to fly into the air, hitting her face which was veiled by a curtain of curly brown hair. I looked on approvingly for a few seconds; apparently there were some females in this school who actually did work, before moving toward the Care of Magical Creatures section. There being no other safe table to sit at, I loped out, escaping the endless giggles for the refuge of my own cabin on the ship.

The third time I ventured back was to return said books, having found nothing of any use within them. Each method of calming, sedating, or otherwise surviving a dragon each required a team of at least eight highly trained men. I had to face the task alone.

So I crept in, as unobtrusively as a bulky, six-foot even, international celebrity quidditch player can. That is to say, I lumbered in so that my footsteps only made the first two bookshelves shake, and not the entire Potions section as usual. On my way over to the front desk, I was accosted by a blur of yellow and black with a high-pitched voice shrieking my name and shoving a quill and a photograph of myself. Overwhelmed by the onslaught, I looked up for help and caught the eye of the bushy-haired girl. She shot me a death glare, almost as strong as those my face sported in every poster, and then furiously attacked her work again. I signed the thing as fast as I could and fled, taking the useless books along with me in my haste.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

Ugh! He came again today. I can never work when he comes into the library. I dread seeing him there, because his very presence ensures that nothing will get done…

Don't get me wrong. I don't have anything against him per se. It's just that everywhere he goes, that stupid squad of chattering chits chases him (pardon my alliteration). He doesn't seem to even like the attention, what with that deer-in-the-headlights look he gave me when that girl asked for his autograph.

And that girl! Amanda something-or-other, sixth-year Hufflepuff. Has she no brain at all? It's people like her who make Cedric Diggory so determined to redeem their house dignity. Shouting in the library! Thankfully Madame Pince descended on her as soon as Krum fled, and she has detention for the week. Justice is served.

Now that I think about it, Krum, renowned quidditch star or no, really did seem frightened of a harmless teenage girl. He kind of reminds me of Harry in that way. How natural they are at what they do, yet shying away from the spotlight. Harry hides himself in his cousin's gigantic denim jeans which draw attention away from the famous scar on his forehead. Krum's reticence shows even in the way he walks around, hunched over himself, loping along in the shadows. It's almost as if…

I can't waste any more time on this. If I don't spend at least another hour on my DADA essay, Professor Moody will only give me an E.

Victor Krum seems like a good guy.

I hope he doesn't come to the library again.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

I stayed away from the library for a long while. When I finally returned to bring back the dragon books and borrow a quidditch strategy pamphlet—assigned reading from the Bulgarian coach—the witch watching over the books swooped down much like a dragon herself and subjected me to a twenty-minute lecture on the sacred nature of library books, how they must never be kept out of the library past their due date, and how I had broken every single law in the LFSLF (Librarians for Stricter Late Fines) handbook. In conclusion, I owed 3 galleons, 5 sickles to the librarian and could not remove a single tome from the library.

I found the book eventually, then turned to see that all of the library desks had been filled, all by the love-struck girls who took to following my every move. The only seat not contaminated by their frightening hormones was that by the bushy-haired witch in the back of the library. I sighed and slunk over. I'd rather risk a glare than being molested by some over-enthusiastic quidditch-worshipper.

"Is this seat taken? All of the others haff been filled."

She looked up, and the glare was there, although not as strong as it had been a fortnight previous. "Even though you're Victor Krum, you can't just keep books out longer than 7 days, or Madame Pince will have your head." Madame Pince, I gathered, was the dragon-librarian. "Well, sit down. At least your obnoxious fan club will not be fawning over you too loudly if you're in the back."

I started at her frankness. "Thank you, Miss…."

"Granger, Hermione Granger," she supplied curtly.

"Hermion-ninny Granger." I nodded to her, sat down, and pulled out my book, studying the diagrams carefully. We studied silently, the only sound that of her quill scratching at the parchment. Occasionally, I glanced over and admired her. She was so open, so unlike the girls at Durmstrang who dressed and acting so much like the men that it was difficult to differentiate between one and the other. But neither was she like the girls who stalked me in the castle, who purposely wore shirts with low necklines and indecently short skirts to attract attention. She seemed far more sensible than either extreme. Her uniform was form-fitting but not disgustingly so, showing her to an advantage without making her look like a woman offering herself for sale in muggle Sofia.

But what made her more enticing was the regal air with which she held herself. When one girl two tables over dared talk too loudly, Hermion-ninny dealt one swift glare which immediately set her silent. She ruled over the library with an iron fist. And the fire in her eyes when she vanquished yet another disturber of the peace intrigued me so. I wanted to be the man able to put that fire there, to harness that beautiful wild energy held by the library queen.

The intensity of my emotions stunned me momentarily. I had never felt this much since my first ride on a broom, that mix of sheer exhilaration and terror, not knowing what I am doing or where I am going, yet understanding that it was worth more than anything else in the world. And, like quidditch, I was going to let nothing stand in the way of the goal.

I stood up and nodded to her again. "Until next time."

She glanced up at me, nodded back, and returned to her parchment as I moved briskly out of the room, barely registering the giggling crowd mimic my movement.

It wasn't until I reached the comfort of my bunk that I identified the feeling of familiarity with her response. It was exactly how I had first treated her on my first venture into the library.

I turned over and planned a new strategy to win her heart.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

Victor Krum finally showed his cowardly face in the library again. I would have marched right up to him and scolded him for his idiocy had Madame Pince not beat me to it. By the end of her tirade, I almost felt sympathy for him. That is, until he came up and asked to take the seat next to me. Why did he have to sit there? He could have had any other seat. I'm sure him fan girls would have given him a place to sit—and maybe much more—if he had asked.

I tried my best glare, but my musings must have taken something out of it, for he just thanked me and asked my name, which he proceeded to butcher. I know it's unusual, but he added at least three extra 'n's. I tried my best to ignore him, and continued on my essay.

Midway through my paragraph on the effectiveness of the Imperius curse on middle-ages hags, one of _his_ worshippers had the gall to actually burst out in laughter. Of course a quick stern look cured it, but out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me, slightly in awe. Or was it horror? I've heard that women are very self-restrained in Bulgaria, maybe he was shocked by my forwardness. Well, I wouldn't change to make him feel comfortable. When he announced his departure, I barely reacted, sighing in relief as his club followed suit.

When I finally got back to the common room, later than usual, thanks to the above-normal noise level in my sanctuary, I found Harry panicking over the first task in just five days. How could I have forgotten? I had been helping him practice the summoning charm in our free time, but the date had snuck up upon us. I promised to help him perfect it for the task. After another two hours of half-successful attempts to summon my charms textbook across the room, we stumbled up to our dorms for a deep night's sleep.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

The golden egg was heavy in my arms, but its mystery was not what occupied my mind. The old man Crouch announced that there would be a Yule Ball in a month's time and that all champions must be accompanied by a date. Of course I would take the lovely Hermion-ninny, but how?

I visited the library again, this time without any purpose other than to observe my conquest. She was at our table in the back. Even stooped over her work, she still retained that regal air about her. My natural reclusiveness prevented me from going up to her and asking her outright to the Ball, but then I was struck by a better idea. I hurried out of the castle to find my owl.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

The day after the first task began later than usual. After Harry had defeated the most dangerous dragon on the field in a stunning aerial feat, Gryffindor had hosted its most raucous party to date. To add to the festivities, Ron apologized for being a git—rightly so—and so the three of us are together again. Thank goodness. I could not handle acting as a go-between for another month like this.

Seeing the time on my clack however, I shot out of bed, threw on the first uniform I saw, and sprinted down to breakfast, grabbing a startled and bleary-eyed Harry on the way down. We loaded our plates—with what, I am still not sure—and began shoveling down food in exactly the manner that I scold Ron for daily.

After two minutes of frenzied eating, I registered a persistent poking in my side. "What?"

"You have an owl."

Indeed, it did appear to be so. A handsome black owl stood patiently by my goblet, grasping a bouquet of flowers and a card in one claw. But Hermione Granger does not receive owls. All of my magical correspondents live at Hogwarts, and the weekly news owl doesn't even bother to stop before dropping The Prophet into my breakfast. And Hermione Granger definitely does not get sent flowers. I mean, who would admire a bushy-haired book nerd like myself. No one. So the owl must have found the wrong person. I nodded to myself, satisfied with this conclusion, and reached for the card to direct the owl to its proper recipient.

_Hermione Granger._

Apparently it was to me, after all. But who would send me flowers? Malfoy! I realized. the flowers were probably cursed. Before the spell could react to my proximity, I levitated them into the air and cast an Incendio on them. Then I turned to the Slytherin table, yelled "Nice try, Malfoy!" and rushed off to Herbology.

Really, he wouldn't think me so stupid as to fall for such an obvious trick. I am not the smartest witch in our year for nothing!

In my triumphant exit, I missed the look of confusion on Malfoy's face and that of despair on Krum's.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

My plan was perfect. I sent for flowers, asked my friend whose English is far better than my own, to write a note, and sent my queen my owl at breakfast. It was fool-proof, or so I thought.

The minutes seemed to last forever as I sat waiting at the Slytherin table. Breakfast was almost three-quarters over (and my nerves, shot to all hell) when she arrived in a frenzy, hair even frizzier than usual, red-and-gold tie skewed, face flushed from running. I had never seen anything more beautiful.

To my dismay, she ignored Hermes in favor of food, which she ate in the most un-ladylike manner I had ever seen. It only endeared her more to me.

However, when she saw the letter, instead of opening it like I had hoped, she set fire to it in front of the entire hall, shouting something at the blond sitting next to me, and stormed out. All of the students sat in shock for a minute, but I had seen the confusion in her eyes when she first received the note and realized that owl post would not suffice if I wanted to take Hermion-ninny to the ball.

It was time for Plan B.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

I rushed into the library after Double-Herbology. Professor Sprout had assigned us an essay on poisonous magical plants of the Caribbean and I needed to get the books before someone else (a Ravenclaw) could take them. Sighing in relief as I found them still on the shelves, I curled up at my desk in the back and began researching native boil remedies of Haiti. I had only just passed the first paragraph when my light was blocked. I glanced up with my best go-away-can't-you-see-I'm-trying-to-work glare, only to see Victor Krum looming over me. He didn't seem his usual impassive self. It wasn't obvious, but the way he shifting side to side with his hands behind his back created an image of nerves unbefitting an international celebrity.

"Can I help you?" I went for the friendly approach. After all, research shows that people cooperate with you faster if you try being polite.

"Hermion-ninny," he began in his low, heavily accented voice, "I vould be most pleased if you vould accompany to this Yule Ball."

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

She appeared shocked by my question. I had surprised myself actually. I had never been one to initiate a conversation, let alone ask someone out without having a clear political reason to back my decision. After so many years of creating an emotionless slate in my mind, this one girl had changed my whole life.

I brought out the bouquet of orchids from behind my back. "Purple, for the queen of the library."

Hermion-ninny's look became speculative as her eyes moved between the flowers and myself. "So it was you who… never mind." She reached for the orchids and gestured to the open seat beside her. "What can you tell me about Durmstrang?"

"Vell, ve have unlimited access to a library almost three times as large as this vone," I began. She smiled.

I had finally captured the library queen.

_The End._

A/N: This was written for Written Sparks' Crayola Color Challenge. My randomly assigned colors were denim blue (associated with comfort, relaxing, and reliability according to the Crayola website) and orchid (majestic, magical, visionary, royal, intuitive). I focused more on the orchid in this one, obviously. I hope you liked it! Leave me a review(positive or negative) and I'll get back to you.


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